Teaching how to drive

My ordination certificate that hangs on the wall clearly states that I am a teacher. It reads in Hebrew: “Morenu HaRav, yoreh yoreh; yadin yadin…” That translates as “Our teacher the Rabbi who surely will teach and judge…” For the last 25 years, I have taken that charge to heart. I believe that I have been honing my teaching skills in both the synagogue and in the community. So how come with all this experience, I am so nervous about teaching my kid to drive a car?

I understand the practicality of the situation. I have been trained in other skill sets and not in driver education. I know there is no section of the Talmud dedicated to this endeavor. But one would think that as the third child sits behind the wheel, I would be more relaxed and confident.

Truth is that it has very little to do with my daughter and her abilities. She seems to be a very confident student. It’s me with the problem. As the guy in the passenger seat, I am a bundle of nerves! Sure enough as I run through the litany of things to be aware of and to do before we even put the car into motion, my daughter will roll her eyes and sigh: “dad, I know…” And then for a moment, panic will set in – my mind flashes to Dustin Hoffman in the movie “Rain Man” in which his character professes: “I’m an excellent driver.” And in truth, she will be an excellent driver. Why? Because my wife will teach her! The 2 of them are more in-sync and my daughter will more likely respond to her patient style than my white-knuckle approach.

Teaching is an art form. Anyone who sees it in a corporate model has not been in classroom as a teacher. Education is not “one-size-fits-all”; what style works for one student may not be as effective to another. Yet ironically we live in a time where we want to hold educators to a business model to measure their success. Test results on standardized exams are the measure of success. Last week, David Kirp wrote an op-ed piece in the New York Times [August 16, 2014] that explored this in-depth. One of the keys for a student’s success is the presence of a social trust between schools/teachers/students/parents. Like any art form, appreciation is subjective. Yet, we live in a society in which we want clear tangible results and if not, the teacher will be held accountable. Many want to see a common core curriculum in place to create a sense of continuity and hold students to a higher level of learning. Then there was the recent California Supreme Court ruling that challenged the tenure system. The ways a student learns and who is to blame when students do not thrive are all up for grabs.

In Jewish tradition, the greatest of our teachers was Moses. Throughout Jewish literature, his name was associated with this trait; he was called Moshe Rabbienu, Moses our teacher. Now his style of teaching varied between the frontal style of a law-giver who lectured and proclaimed and that of a shepherd who guided and nurtured. His success also varied—the Israelites often were chastised for breaking God’s commandments that Moses brought down, but they have been the steadfast rock upon which we built our faith and our lives. But his shepherding style had a unique impact on the Jewish soul. A shepherd does not lead from in front of the flock; he leads from the rear. He is not like the cowboys in those John Wayne films where he rides ahead and the cattle follow behind. A shepherd stands back and pushes forward, drawing the sides in close to keep the flock moving ahead. Moses’ teaching styles could be compared to that of a lecturer who shared information in a frontal fashion or a teacher who utilized the Socratic method of questioning and letting students develop their own answers.

My daughter’s choice parallels the 2 styles that Moses brought forth. She can learn from me who will lecture and impart information or she will learn from her mother who will question and discuss the lessons of the road. And the reality is that she will learn from both of us—there will be days where our moods will be better matched with one another. There will be days when she will want only the other parent to drive with her. Regardless, I need to learn to let go a bit—ease my grip on the door handle and remember that the passenger side of the car doesn’t have a brake. Most of all, I need to be patient and calm so that she can be what I know her to be: an excellent driver!

2 Responses

You should teach her, Rabbi. She and her mother will have other things over which to bond. But this should be yours. She will sense your apprehension and discomfort, but she will love you all the more for it.